転生 Reincarnation
by Fourangers
Summary: Warring States Period. Life of battle, war and chaos. No men had the luxury to ask for freedom of choice. No warrior had the privilege to have feelings. Not even love.


Warning: Huh. Subtle signs of homosexuality. Hooray for strange fics!

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**転生 ****(Tensei)**

_Reincarnation_

… – …

Warring States Period. Life of battle, war and chaos. No men had the luxury to ask for freedom of choice. No warrior had the privilege to have feelings, not even love.

He had no liberty of thought since his birth. Had already been deprived the warmth from his mother's cocoon, he made his initial wobbly steps carrying a katana around. There was no time for tender moments. He could not falter and be pampered as a proper child. Follow the codes. Remember the honor and his lineage.

A Samurai. Brethren from the purest blood, long generations of serving their lord, the clan existed since immemorial times. He had his obligations. He had his days filled with education and training. Everything he had to achieve it with smooth grace, sharp intellect and swift reflexes on fighting. Archery, Judo, Kendo. However, they were living inside an era of constant war. He had learnt through his experiences in maintaining the concentration of his arrow pointed to the bull's eye behind the orchestra of piercing yells and clacking of swords. His ears and eyes filtered the trespasser's crimson liquid marring on the wooden floor as he aimed a strike with his shinai.

He was still an infant. He still kept his undeveloped mind.

He already knew the purpose of all those responsibilities.

At tender age of fourteen, they already resigned that it was in due time he should continue their heredity. Although he wasn't the first-born, there would be a need to throw disposable soldiers to protect the next head of the house. Siblings and members of the branch clan are used to obey other menial tasks that may endanger the main house. Such was his life. That may be his end.

A young woman, no longer then eighteen, was chosen to be his bedmate. Do not use the term 'wife', as such naming may imply consensual exchanges from partners, which wasn't in this circumstances. She was the daughter of some other samurai family, another small name being engulfed to rest inside of a bigger womb.

He couldn't remember the deed, just some cracked pieces of it. He didn't feel, just let the instincts follow it.

Seventeen years old, he had his first son. Watching impersonally from afar, seeing them doing the same thing that they had done to himself, made him wonder almost consciously…if it was a proper decision. Though he didn't had this moment to dwell upon. The smell of death was coming to his land and it was his duty to prevent it. His son will follow his steps.

Warring States Period. It was a life of battle, war and chaos. Humanity didn't have the luxury to ask for freedom of choice. No samurai had the privilege to have feelings…not even love.

He already had his first clash, his sword already drank blood, he had his quota of scars. Raised an increasing numbers of soldiers, his finger pointed some reliable and loyal officers.

Followed the book, chased the honor. Felt the adrenaline coursing on his veins, taste of steel singing constantly on his ears. Devised and learned strategies across his profession. Doing his work.

The tradition of Shyudou, is to adopt an inexperienced (and/or younger) samurai to teach him the way of value and virtue. However, many would distort it to find pleasure behind curtains. The constant presence and blending of confusing intimacy, could bring volumes to a society who kept his eyes closed to homosexuality. Curving slightly the walls of a strict life.

And that's how he found _the one_. When he was in the veteran age of twenty, the one he met was a lower class samurai still learning how to sheathe a life. He wondered if lower classes hadn't had the austere education that impaired his personality, giving him the cold shell that enclosed his tender feelings. He was instantly drawn to those bright and honest eyes. The curl of lips weren't drawn or was commonly used for courtesy, his body held in a conventional pride but without the haunting lines of strained politeness. He had never encountered such alluring person.

That…was until the one had opened his mouth, revealing a ruffian tone with lack of conduct. His motions didn't possess any finesse, his eyes were too invading. He couldn't keep his position still. Clearly someone who needed a lot of instructions and guidelines.

Though where he had in deficiency of rules, the one compensated by his genuine efforts to protect the homeland. While many soldiers awaited for an opportunity of promotion or to avoid battling, he truly desired to defend the fortress and protect their territory. Therefore, even though he came from an unknown name, the one quickly rose on the rankings to receive the title as his vessel. He may turn to be an advantageous asset in the war.

Advantageous. Not Essential.

However, the one was his first splotch of color inside the grayscale of his daily life.

Teaching him…resembled giving water to a dried sponge, everything absorbed and activating on combat afterwards. He may be an inexperienced green fruit, though his mentality was ripened enough to the point that he merely needed to spice some flavor. This was how they ended up talking and discussing about Samurai values, best sword techniques and favorites katanas. The one was also the only person who reminded him that he was a human, not a soldier.

In his vision, whenever the one was spotted, everything around him would take organic shapes to emphasize the perfect imperfectness. It was natural that they would approach towards themselves. He understood why his usual dead heartbeats would timidly revive upon leveling his gaze onto his.

His life consisted in a continuous straight line, all the curves of emotion were kept inside. The initial twist also coiled on his mind and he couldn't comprehend the growing myriad of feelings. But he knew his obligations. That was the only secure thing in each day.

A moment, however, wobbled his solid ground as he and his soldiers were conversing about the conditions in the map. Many pointed and scampered to place their point of view, all voices were in gelid intimidation. He also had his palm opened to certify some geographic inquiries, his faithful vessel standing by his side.

One of the advisors accused his faults, pointed his degree in his clan and degraded his competency. Though he had successfully silenced that foul mouth, the slash to his pride was already done. Reminders of his downgraded position inside that family were a necessity that he'd rather forget. A warm hush to his system suddenly shocked his musings, when he felt a hand, the one's hand, brushing towards his rested one and placed tenderly there.

He couldn't respond, because there were outer eyes that would rush unheeded rumors and he still had an image to preserve. The one was a clever person, fortunately, he had chosen such moment while all heads were fully concentrated on the map so both of them could close to their world.

He, however, didn't want to take the risks.

In a move that didn't sound discourteous neither desperate, he naturally scampered his hand outside that source of heat.

A whisper.

"I thought…"

He knew that the one, emotionally foolish, would automatically assume some other way. After detaching the occurrence with cool eyes, he concluded the conference and each headed to his post.

He awaited the proper place to give his response. Some place where there weren't any excess of looming eyes, a remote space where they could pour their hearts. He pushed _his_ one, more hurried than his arms had given force and stared towards his source of humanity. Since he had never sowed his feelings, the first seeds were awkwardly scattered in intricate knot of uncertainty. He did not know how to continue, kiss was something unachievable since he had never saw once, couldn't comprehend the utility. Therefore, he only did what his soul screamed.

He wanted to feel as close as he could be towards that warm existence and get drunken by such ambrosia. He placed his forehead to feel the other one's, his trembled hands held him stubbornly like a petulant child with his sole toy and he only concentrated in listening their mingled breaths, loud and in compassed rhythm caused by their near proximity.

They were new to the new coloring of their lives, they were walking in baby steps from something that were denied since birth. Therefore, they could only react such newborn emotions by impulse, completely breaching and entering in the sin. That is…finally deciding to act on whims without the borders of strict remembrance or sometimes returning to their childish ideas, negated even before they could show.

Running through grassed plains and trotting through mountains, forgetting their duties, for brief, fleeting moments and look at the soared sky. They would discover a hidden forest that wasn't devastated from the blaze of war, and then, they would lie to admire the countless hue festering on their eyes. Sleep, at last, acknowledging their presence with hands connected till the end of sunset.

Occasionally, a darker and buried desire would burble free and he would crave to undress that stunning body, just to drink closer a smell that plagued him on certain nights. Fortunately though, he could force it down, incapable to grasp the next procedures. Deep inside, he comprehended that it was redundant. Because he had already all.

When the one followed to talk to the daimyos and to report every incident, he had the wisest and faithful advisor on his hands.

When the one entered in combat and he could feel the back protecting his unguarded side, he had the closest symbol of family and companion.

And bizarrely, as they clashed their healthy battle aura as only sounds of opaque bamboo filled the room he felt…that this was an akin to making love.

Though they saw how negatively it would be the consequences of uncovering this. They should follow the code and feel the honor. Protect the land and their lineages. He knew as he saw his five year old son, already walking stiffly with a formal posture. They glanced as territories were gained in, gained out.

Although they even now strived to breach deeper in that forbidden path. Watching on how some couple would act, with a cacophony repeat of holding hands or shyly enveloping the arms around the other's body . They were still inexperienced.

Warring States Period. Life of battle, war and chaos. No one had the luxury to ask for freedom of choice. No one had the privilege to have feelings.

…

Not even love.

The enemy had at last conquered a vital tower and they ushered the one to overcoming it back. The opponent used a kin move and many entered on the trap, many fallen, soldiers beaten their last breath.

The one was an advantageous asset. Not essential.

As he hurried to reach the nearby sentry spot to persist that invasion, he arrived to see the injured remnants grunting and moaning from final pants.

The one…also had his closed eyes, chest exhaling and inhaling peacefully towards the unmovable.

He was the commander of his army; he should treat everyone with equal footing and expect the distant respect that he deserved. Impersonal words of assurance that healing was on its way, they honored their pledge and fulfilled their assignments.

His eyes, unfortunately, had traitorously lingered longer towards a certain place.

As he finally prepared to the incoming onslaught with blurry grey colors, he smiled, mildly blocking the shower of arrows from above.

Maybe…Not here.

Then later?

* * *

Author notes: this is the type of story when the fanfiction dot net asks me what kind of genre I should decide to put it on and I'd scratch my head and think: huh. I dunno.

And in the end I'd place it as General. :P

Well…the Warring States, or better, the Sengoku period is one where many shoguns disputed their territories for unification of Japan. Huh…I think that Oda Nobunaga was the one who began this unification, Toyotomi Hideyoshi who unified and Tokugawa Ieyasu who ruled over the country and introduced the guns in this era. Oh yeah, he was the one who used to have the weird hat. Hm…Musashi Miyamoto is from Ieyasu's era, if I'm not mistaken.

Anyways…history from Japan is fascinating huh? Different type of points of view. Different type of education.

Readers: That was SasuNaru?! Where?!

Errrrr…let's change the subject k? Reviews! XD

Do you know something strange for me? I thought that this fic was highly erotic. WEIRD. Must be my imagination.


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